


Fill In the Blanks

by GythaOgg



Series: Cornucopia, SC [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Confessions, M/M, Origin Story, The Universe Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-28 23:29:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21400414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GythaOgg/pseuds/GythaOgg
Summary: Castiel finally tells Dean who pulled him out of Hell, and why he didn't come find Dean afterwards.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Cornucopia, SC [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1310612
Comments: 7
Kudos: 37





	Fill In the Blanks

Sometimes Dean worried about Castiel. They got along great and he loved spending time with Cas, but once in a while, Cas would just zone out, staring at him with the saddest look on his face. Cas didn’t talk about his past much, and though he told Dean that he was kicked out of Heaven for disobeying orders, he was always very vague about it. So vague, in fact, that Dean was reluctant to ask for more information. Maybe angels were naturally secretive, or maybe it was some Heaven thing that Cas wasn’t allowed to tell him about. Maybe Dean reminds him of someone who died 1000 years ago. Whatever it was, there was definitely something weighing on Cas, and Dean wanted to help.

They’d only been seeing each other for a few months, but they’d grown very close very quickly. They were now officially 'boyfriends', and though that’s something Dean never thought he’d be able to say out loud, he was pretty sure he’d never been happier. It still amazed him that he could tell Cas anything – everything – about his life, and it didn’t faze the angel one bit. His terrible childhood, how he’d struggled to take care of Sam, all the horrific, blood-and-gore nastiness that came with hunting, the loneliness, his mom coming back from the dead, all the near-apocalypses (_apocalypsi?_), the weirdness of being in the closet. Everything had gradually come up during his late-night talks with Cas, or during tattoo sessions, or curled up in bed on a Sunday morning. He’d never felt so safe being honest with anyone.

Except, Cas didn’t really reciprocate. Oh, he’d explain what dinosaurs looked like, talk about ancient battles, of meeting Pythagoras, Sun Tzu, and Moses. Dean had learned all about the ancient hanging gardens of Babylon, because they were one of Cas’s favorite places around 500 BC. They’d even discussed Heaven in some detail, with Cas explaining how human’s afterlives are organized, and how different it is from the older, administrative side of Heaven, populated by angels. But anything from the last 40 or 50 years, Castiel just sort of glossed over. He was exiled from Heaven several years ago, for disobeying a direct order (though exactly what the order was, Cas refused to say). He’d been on Earth ever since, “watching humanity” and floating from hobby to hobby, job to job, until he found himself in Cornucopia. Dean had tried asking broad, prompting questions, the kind of thing couples normally talk about in a new relationship, but it didn’t get him very far.

Have you ever been married? “No”

Have you ever been in love? After a very long pause: “Yes . . . but I thought it was one-sided.”

Do you have any kids? “No”

Do you want kids? “I’ve never given it much thought, but I’m beginning to see the appeal.”

One morning, drinking coffee at Castiel’s kitchen table, Dean noticed Cas doing the vacant, mournful stare thing again. This time, Dean just couldn’t keep quiet.

“Cas? Babe, what’s wrong? Why do you look so sad?”

The sorrow on the angel’s face actually deepened for a moment, then he sighed and shook his head. “It’s nothing, Dean. I’m fine,” he said quietly, wearing a watery smile.

Reaching across the table, Dean rested his hand on Castiel’s, still wrapped around his coffee mug. “Cas, don’t shut me out. Please? I wanna help.”

Cas’s gaze lingered on their hands, curled together on the mug, before he met Dean’s eyes. “Do you remember Hell, Dean?”

That’s definitely not where Dean expected this conversation to go, but Cas was an angel. Maybe he was sad because of something that happened fighting demons (_and isn’t that a weird thing to have in common?_). So he took a deep breath, and answered honestly. “Yeah, bits and pieces. I try not to think about it much.”

“Do you remember how you got out?”

Dean took a moment to really think before he answered this one. He’d tried to recall that part a thousand times, but all he could ever remember is leaning over the rack, and then a lot of noise and light, and the sound the knife made when it fell from his hand. The next clear memory was of digging himself out of his grave. “No, not really. Someone must have pulled me out, but I never found out who.”

Cas put his coffee aside, and took Dean’s hand in both of his. There was a very long pause as he stared into Dean’s eyes, and just before Dean opened his mouth to break the silence, Cas rested one hand on his own sternum.

“The tattoo on my abdomen is Enochian numerals; a date,” Cas began, before another pregnant pause. “It’s the day you were pulled out of Hell. The day **I** pulled you out of Hell.”

Dean blinked over and over, first too slow, then too fast. The inside of his head suddenly felt like an old VCR on rewind. After a minute or so, he put his hands up, palms facing Castiel. “Wait. YOU? . . . YOU dragged me out of the Pit?” Castiel nodded, but wouldn’t quite meet Dean’s eyes.

“Why?” was all that Dean could think to ask, at first. “Was it Heaven, or was it YOU? Did you know me?”

Cas looked down at the table and shook his head, slowly. “No, I didn’t know you before that mission. I knew OF you; you were the Righteous Man, everyone knew who you were, who your family was, what you were meant to do. I was there on Heaven’s orders, with half my garrison. We were supposed to find you for Michael. He intended to rescue you himself, in hopes that you would be so grateful to be free of that torment, that you’d agree to be his Sword.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed, suspecting how this part of the story would go. “But Michael didn’t rescue me; you did. Was that the order you disobeyed? Is that what got you thrown out of Heaven?” By the end of the question, Dean’s eyes had gone wide. Cas didn’t answer, but the truth was obvious. “I got you exiled? You lost your home, your family, your wings, because of ME? Why would you do that? Cas, what the fuck were you thinking?”

Reaching for Dean’s hand again, Cas shook his head again, hard. “I was exiled for disobeying the direct order of an archangel. Heaven considers that mutiny, no matter what the order is, and I knew the risk. But I do not regret my decision, Dean. If Michael had rescued you, he would have pounced on you then and there, and in that moment, you would have said yes. And you would have been trapped. You would have been forced to watch Michael and Lucifer destroy the world. You would have had to kill Sam, or be killed by him. It wasn’t fair to trick you into that decision, when you had no idea what you’d be agreeing to. That’s not true consent. I couldn’t let that happen to you, Dean. So when I found you, I gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition myself, and I accepted the consequences of my actions.”

Dean was still horrified, wracked with guilt that Cas had sacrificed everything for him. His mind was swimming with questions, trying to map the trail between that monumental action a decade ago, to where they were now. Cas was quiet, giving Dean the space to process what this meant.

Finally, Dean pulled his hand back, gently, and sat up straight. “_Then_ what? Where have you been all these years? Why didn’t you come find me? Why didn’t you warn me? You left it to fucking Zachariah? Uriel? I almost said yes anyway, Cas!”

“But you _didn’t_. And you made that decision knowing what would happen. You chose, and Sam chose, and you saved the world.”

“Where WERE you? You just yanked me out of Hell and then took off?”

Cas looked hurt and ashamed, but he reluctantly met Dean’s gaze. “I tried to speak to you in that gas station, after you crawled out of your grave, but you couldn’t understand me. Some humans can hear our true voices, and I just assumed you’d be able to. When I realized you couldn’t, I went looking for a vessel, so I could tell you face to face. But by the time I came to an agreement with Jimmy, Michael tracked me down, and he brought me before the angelic court and had me cast out. Jimmy’s soul stayed in Heaven, so I had no idea how to get by as a human. I had to learn everything by trial and error: how to get money, what to eat, how to drive, how to bathe, how to use the bathroom. It was a nightmare. By then, months had passed, and I had no idea where you and Sam had gone. I spent a year chasing you, but when I found you, you were with Lisa, and I . . . .” Cas looked away again, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t understand what I was feeling, and you seemed so happy. I didn’t want to ruin that for you, so I kept my distance. I checked in on you a few times, but eventually, I felt it would be best for you if I stayed away. You hated angels by then, and you’d already proven quite capable of looking out for yourself, so I figured you’d be better off without me. I missed you every single day, Dean, but I never expected to see you again. And then you showed up here.”

Dean sat with his elbows propped on the table, forehead in his hands, and fingers clenched in his own hair. “I could have helped you - learning the human stuff. You saved my life, Cas. I would have helped you! We could have . . . ”

Cas slumped in his chair a few inches away and gave him a small, sad, smile. “It’s just as well, Dean,” he mumbled, “I didn’t want to be a burden, or a debt for you to repay.”

“You said you didn’t understand what you were feeling, when you found me living with Lisa. What were you feeling?” Dean asked, in a voice so low it was hard to make out the words. When there was no answer, Dean raised his head and spoke Cas’s name.

Castiel gulped and opened his eyes again, focusing several inches to the left of Dean’s head. “Love. I was in falling love with you, with your soul, even then. I just didn’t know what it was.”

“So, you’re tellin’ me you’ve been in love with me for years, without even meeting me?”

“I met you, Dean. I held your soul in my arms when I dragged you out of Hell. I rebuilt your body and brain, atom by atom. I knew you more profoundly than anyone has ever known you, before or since.”

“If you’d come to me at Lisa’s. If you’d told me. We could have had this years ago, Cas!“ Dean whispered, gesturing between them.

Cas shook his head. “You wouldn’t have felt safe enough for this while you were still hunting. Certainly not with a man. Things are different now, here. You’re free.” He reached out to take Dean’s hand, and Dean let him.

“Yeah, you’re probably right about that.”

“Can you forgive me?” Cas asked, in his Very Serious Voice.

Dean squeezed his hand and huffed. “I wish you’d told me before now, but there’s nothing to forgive. I’m kinda glad it worked out this way, actually. I got to fall in love with you for _you_, without the whole hero-worship thing. I know we have that ‘profound bond’ goin, but I think that was just the icing on the cake. I love who you are, not what you did for me, and that’s how it should be.”

The two stared at each other in silence for a minute, before Dean took a deep breath. “Is there anything else I should know?”

Castiel’s eyes drifted to the man’s left shoulder. “You once told me you’ve always felt like you should have a tattoo on your shoulder, like something was meant to be there, but you didn’t know what it should be?” Dean nodded. “That,” he said gently, pressing his hand to Dean’s deltoid, “is where I first touched your soul in Hell.”

Dean glanced from Cas’s hand on his shoulder, to Cas’s face, twice. “Can you still see it, under the skin?” Cas nodded. “Can everyone see it? I mean, angels and demons and stuff?” Cas nodded again. Dean’s face flushed hot, and he was sure he must be beet red, but he felt a thrill run through him. All the angels, demons, gods and demi-gods he’s met over the years, they’d all been able to see Cas’s claim on him. Dean bit his bottom lip and looked up at Cas through his eyelashes. “Guess I know what my next tattoo’s gonna be, then, huh?” The look on Cas’s face went from relief to joy to arousal, all in less than a second.

Cas glanced down at their feet, “Sooooo . . .“ He tilted his head and looked up at Dean again. “You fell in love with me?”

“You heard what I said,” Dean mumbled, dropping his eyes and fighting a grin.

“Hmmm . . . not sure I believe you.”

Dean glanced up at Cas again, one eyebrow cocked. “No?” Cas pressed his lips together, trying to keep the smirk off his face. He shrugged. “Well, maybe I should try to convince you,” Dean rumbled, giving Castiel his best leer. 

A broad, bright smile spread slowly across the angel’s face. “Actions do speak louder than words, Dean.”

“Oh, you’re gonna see some action, alright,” Dean chuckled, standing and pulling Cas up with him.

Castiel rolled his eyes and groaned. “That was awful! You’ve actually gotten people into bed with that line?”

Dean had the decency to look a tiny bit embarrassed, but grinned anyway. “Nah, I’m pretty sure I got lucky despite that line, actually. C’mon, I’m adorable!”

Cas took Dean’s face in his hands, stroking his thumbs down his jaw. “Yes, you are. And smart, and handsome. And strong, and sweet, and funny. And noble, and brave, and resilient.” Cas watched the blush spread from Dean’s ears to his cheeks, before dropping his hands to Dean’s hips and yanking him close. “And very, very sexy. Come upstairs with me.”


End file.
